


slow it down

by thisapathy



Series: come sink into me and let me breathe you in [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisapathy/pseuds/thisapathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the prison, after Terminus, Rick and Carl have a much needed conversation regarding their relationship. Set in 5x12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slow it down

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so any/all mistakes are my own.

If he knew how things were going to play out, he'd have never made the first move. But no one saw Alexandria coming, and that made it all the worse.

He should’ve known nothing good would come from it in the long term. Short term, it's brought him a feeling of security. It's passed the time, made him feel whole again after the prison. And it's not like it's nothing; it's everything to both of them.

Carl sits in front of the window that overlooks the street below. No one's passed in a good hour, but he can't tear himself away, not until they know exactly what this place is. The door creaks open behind him and he spins, knife in position to strike in half a second flat. Upon seeing his father, he drops the stance with a small huff of relief and falls back into his chair.

"You've been up here all morning," Rick notes. He hesitates, and then crosses the room, boots thumping on the hardwood floor.

Carl shrugs in response, not readily admitting that he was keeping watch.

"You can take a look around, y'know. Don't gotta keep watch all day."

"I'm not," Carl insists. His tone gives him away, too desperate to be convincing.

"Mhm," Rick hums. He stands by the chair, hand clasped on his son's shoulder. "I mean it. Carol's got Judith—go."

"I don't want to."

"There's other kids here."

Whether or not that's supposed to entice him, he doesn't know. He looks up at his father from under the brim of his hat. "I'm not like them," he says. He can't possibly have anything in common with the kids here, not after all he’s been through. Not after what he's done, what he's had to do.

"Can't argue with you there." Rick pauses. “What d'you think of this place?”

“I like it,” Carl answers. “The people are nice. I know what it means for everyone. I almost wish we hadn’t found it for my own selfish reasons, I guess. But I know we need it, the group needs it... Judith needs it.”

"She does," his father nods. "Look—"

"We don't have to talk about it," Carl snips, because he knows what's coming next.

"We do," Rick insists. “We can’t keep doin’ that, Carl.”

“I know,” he whispers. He's known that was coming, known they couldn’t avoid talking about it—this— _them_. “But we don’t have to talk about it,” he continues. “I get it.”

“After the prison—”

” _Dad_ ,” Carl pleads. He doesn't want to hear this; he's imagined the same conversation in his head over and over again after the first time they fucked. It's never come up, they've just kept fucking, they've never talked about it, and he's waited with bated breath for Rick to bring it up. He wonders now how long it could've gone on for if they hadn't found Michonne, hadn’t gone to Terminus, hadn’t gone to Alexandria.

“It was a _mistake_.”

Carl shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t. I know you know that. We don’t have to talk about it, and you don’t have to call it a mistake."

"Carl—"

"I’m _serious._  I know. I _know_ we can’t go on like that, just don't call it a mistake," he says bitterly. What they have, the closeness they've shared, has never been a mistake to him, not even close. It's what kept him going these past weeks.

Rick holds up his hands in defense. "Fine," he says, softer this time. When he turns to go, Carl twists in his chair to watch him.

His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he tears up. He hates himself for that because he's supposed to be strong, he's supposed to be level headed, he's supposed to be a man, and right now he's none of those things. Instead, he's upset and emotional and weak. He can't stop himself from calling out, "Dad?"

Rick stops in the doorway, hand on the doorknob. "What?"

He looks at Rick, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He swallows thickly and it comes out in a whisper: "One last time?"

Rick hangs his head with a heavy sigh.

"Please?"

His father pauses thoughtfully and then nods. He steps back into the room and pulls the door shut behind him, locking it just in case. Carl watches him cross the room, sit down on the bed, and pull off his boots and socks. They gaze at each other until Rick beckons his son over. "Well, c'mon."

Carl stands and crosses over to where Rick sits at the edge of the bed. He slings a leg over his father's knees and slides onto his lap easily. "Hey," says with a hint of a chuckle. He drapes his lanky arms over Rick's broad shoulders and dips his head for a kiss. It feels weird kissing Rick without his beard, nice, but almost foreign, until he feels a tongue prodding at his lips.

He unbuttons his own shirt as they kiss, mewling softly when Rick's possessive hands grip his small hips. He breaks the kiss, shrugging his shirt off and letting it fall onto the floor behind them.

Rick smiles at his son, face softening, and taps the brim of Carl's hat. "You and this goddamn hat," he says fondly.

Carl smiles back at him. "You gave me this hat," he answers, just as fond. He reaches up and pulls it off, tossing it to the floor. He shakes his head as he reaches up to unbutton his father's shirt.

"You need a haircut," Rick comments, pushing a hand through Carl's hair.

"No," Carl scoffs. As Rick stares up at him, he savors the moment because moments like these are his favorite; intimacy bordering on innocent, breathing each other in, soft banter between them.

Carl pushes Rick's shirt off his shoulders and sighs at the sight. He places his hands on his father's bare chest, blunt nails delicately scraping the tanned skin, bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

"What're you doin'?" his father asks.

Carl swallows thickly and feels Rick’s fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his head. "Savoring this," he answers, earnest. He smiles and leans in for another kiss, groaning as Rick grips his small hips and pulls him closer. He can feel Rick's hard cock against the underside of his thigh, still restrained by his jeans, and breaks the kiss as quickly as he initiates it.

Rick chuckles and leans in to kiss his neck, lips soft and warm as he places a trail down to Carl’s collarbone. There, he sucks hard. Carl knows it’ll leave a mark—always does—and he buries his fingers in the soft curls at the base of Rick’s neck. “Daddy,” he moans, and maybe it’s intentional and maybe it’s an accident, but either way that flicks a switch in Rick like nothing else.

Rick growls and pulls Carl closer to him, hands possessive on his lower back, and Carl briefly wonders why they’re ending this when it’s always so good for both of them.

He’s caught off guard when Rick’s mouth pulls away and he stands, hands under his thighs as Rick turns around, and drops him gently on the mattress. He laughs, watching as Rick reaches out to unbutton and unzip his jeans. They’re off with a light tug, followed by his boxers, and then it’s Rick’s turn.

Carl sits on the edge of the bed, hands trembling in anticipation of the act itself and because this is the last time they’ll do this and because he wants it so badly but he wants it to last. He splays a hand over the plane of Rick’s taught stomach, thin fingers sliding down slowly until he reaches the bulging fly. He smirks, looking up at his father through his too-long bangs.

“What?” Rick drawls.

Carl shakes his head, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. With a swift tug, Rick is exposed. Carl wraps his fist around the base, eyeing it objectively before wetting his lips and sucking the head into his mouth.

Rick’s head falls back and he runs his fingers through Carl’s hair once more.

Carl does his best to accommodate Rick’s thrusts, occasionally having to pull off and cough. He reaches between his own legs and strokes himself and sucks until his jaw begins to ache, finally pulling away with a lewd pop.

“Gonna miss that,” Rick breathes, looking down.

With a throaty laugh, Carl wraps his hand around Rick’s length and pumps it lightly. He want to say this doesn’t have to be the last time, but they both know better than that.

“You want me to—?”

Carl shakes his head. “No,” he says, pulling himself back on the bed and lying back, legs bent at the knee and spread. “I just want you.” He wants to fuck Rick in so many different ways at once—fast, slow, rough—and can’t decide which one he wants most. He motions over to the dresser on the far wall where he’s stashed his treasured bottle of lube. “Lube’s in the top drawer.”

Rick crosses the room to retrieve it and crawls onto the bed. Carl watches as Rick coats his fingers expertly, making sure not to use more than necessary, and reaches between his legs. At the first intrusion, he whimpers and throws an arm over his face.

“You okay?”

”Yeah, just forgot what it feels like,” he answers, breathless. It’s been a while since the last time, couple days before they got to Terminus, and he’s more than eager to get the ball rolling. He moves his arm to peek at his father and says, “Another one.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Dad_ ,” he groans.

Rick complies, pushing a second finger alongside the first, and pumps them gently. He kneels to press light kisses along Carl’s smooth belly which are well-received and approved with a whine.

“You like that?” Rick asks, accent thick and heavy, warm breath causing Carl to shiver. Rick curls his fingers slightly and sparks of pleasure pulse through his body.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Rick raises his brow but says nothing and adds a third finger. “How’s that?”

“Full,” Carl grunts. “ _Good_.”

Rick hums, leaning forward and Carl seizes the moment to grab his father’s face between his hands and pull him into a searing kiss. He groans, lighting his hips off the mattress in attempt to get those fingers deeper inside. He breaks the kiss and traces his fingers along Rick’s freshly shaved jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” Rick prompts.

“I want you to fuck me,” Carl replies. His father hums in approval again and pulls his fingers out, receiving a frustrated whimper in return. He watches as Rick readies himself with more lube and grows impatient. “ _Come on_.”

Rick shoots him a look. “You want this to hurt?” Carl shakes his head. “Didn’t think so.”

Carl frowns but spreads his legs regardless as Rick finally positions himself and pushes in. Carl’s response is a desperate gasp at the intrusion, but gives himself a few seconds to get reaccustomed to the feeling. He places his hands on his father’s sides, thin fingers gripping the solid muscle beneath skin. Slowly, Rick begins to slide out and back in, and Carl falls back into the familiarity of this after all those stagnant weeks.

He lifts his legs, wrapping them around Rick’s ever-moving hips, and moves his hand to his own neglected cock. He moans at his own touch. He’s missed this more than he ever imagined, missed their labored breathing, the warmth and weight of someone on top of him, pleasuring him, fucking him. He isn’t sure how he’s going to cope without any of those things when this is over.

Rick buries his head in the crook of his neck, mouthing at the skin there, sucking hard but not hard enough to leave a mark like the one on his shoulder. “This what you wanted?” Rick asks, breath ragged.

“Uh-huh,” Carl manages to reply.

“Not sure it is,” Rick comments. He stops mid-thrust and lifts his head to look at his son. “You’re too quiet.”

”Gotta be quiet,” Carl replies with a smirk. “Someone might hear.”

“Yeah,” Rick agrees, but his tone is sarcastic and playful. He pulls out completely and slaps Carl’s thigh. “Turn ‘round, on your hands and knees.”

Carl grins and does as he’s told. His body burns with anticipation as he presents himself, ass in the air, chest on the mattress. He feels the head of Rick’s cock push at his entrance and leans into it, groaning as Rick slides into him again. Rick’s hand presses between his shoulder blades to hold him down an with every thrust Rick’s cock brushes against his prostate and his mouth waters at the feeling.

“Oh my god,” he moans.

“Yeah,” Rick says with the hint of a chuckle, “thought you’d like that.” And then the thrusts slow. “That what you want?”

Carl wriggles his hips desperately. “Yes.”

A slap on his ass. “You like that?”

”Mhm,” Carl whines, nodding against the mattress. “Daddy, _please_.”

Rick finally obliges, resuming his vigorous thrusts and Carl reaches between his thighs for his cock. Every pulsing movement against his prostate brings him closer and he pumps himself in sync with Rick’s thrusts.

“Come in me, wanna feel—oh, _daddy_.” He comes before he’s ready but it’s been so long, he can’t hold off, and he lets himself spill onto the bed below him.

“Fuck,” Rick grunts, and Carl feels him come inside him.

As Carl comes down from his orgasm, he becomes aware of a vague, dull ache at his hips that’s brought on by his father’s strong grip. He knows from experience that he’ll have bruises there later and he knows from experience that he’ll hope they’ll never fade.

Rick pulls out and Carl turns over on the bed. He watches Rick wipe his brow with his forearm, hopes desperately that they’ll at least be able to lie together for a while, but Rick stands and that breaks Carl’s heart. “You’re going?”

“Yeah,” Rick nods.

Carl sits up with his arms around his knees as Rick slips his jeans on first, zipping and buttoning them.

Rick reaches for his shirt and slips it on, glancing over his shoulder as he buttons it closed. It’s a scene that’s played out over and over, but Carl’s never imagined it would end like this, never imagined they’d find the rest of their group, that they’d find Alexandria.

“You gonna be alright?” Rick asks after a moment.

“Always am,” Carl mutters with a shrug. _Always have to be._

“I love you, Carl; this doesn’t change that.”

”I love you too,” Carl replies, voice cracking and, for a fraction of a second, sounding like a broken child.

Rick turns to go, and it’s all Carl can do to watch him.


End file.
